Those Left-Out

Time was weighing on her shoulders. Her crooked body made it hard to walk, and yet she would wake up every morning at dawn to get her groceries at the nearby covered market. The city was cold and rocked by the Black Sea’s wind. She had emigrated from Guangdong in the late ’50s, with nothing but a coat and a briefcase with a few yuans in it. She was now living in a small apartment by herself, in a nameless street. She had the brightest smile, but no soul was present to acknowledge it. She wasn’t lonely, however, as she had accumulated a great collection of books throughout the years. Reading was her favorite activity. She had to learn the local language at her arrival in this foreign land, which made it hard to find any pleasure in any sort of book at first. Her constant efforts throughout the years eventually bear their fruits and she had earned the right to enjoy them. Her accent wasn’t perfect and she had trouble expressing herself, but books were understanding and didn’t reply back. She didn’t have to talk to anyone in fact, she was just selling flowers in the nameless street, always accompanied by her books.